M.L. Emmett

You breathed your last breath from the air
in this room;
that threadbare Persian carpet
holds flakes from your skin;
...

Look in the mirror and what do you see?
This is your golden time, your early spring
A dew-fresh face, peachy and wrinkle free
You are sweetest rosebud near blooming
...

Young women know all about style -
how to fix the decimal point
between them and their mothers
differentiate themselves
...

The poor keep moving
as if relocation
could reframe the algebra.
...

The jet black coal-smeared dawn
of days afterwards
of starless nights
and moonlesss nights
...

Be strong
imagine yourself
in one of those death chambers
with the stench of mortal sweat on every person
...

~ for Angela Scuteri ~


Shadows hold their breath
...

In the seventies
we brought back silks and saris
hot with colours
that shocked the nights
...

In Winnipeg
they dig the winter graves
in autumn
before the sun sleeps
...

The scent of death
lingers for years
in a place
...

Poems find a space for themselves
in chaos.

Poems are the wormholes
...

Poems are cubby holes full of secrets.

Poems slink into dank rooms
stale with human sweat and spit,
...

Poems scream in supermarkets
and roll in the aisles for attention,
check-out treats won't buy their silence.
...

Poems pout
and pretend they love to be left alone
but they nag
and niggle
...

Poems are thoughtful Muslims
devoted to ‘differance'

Poems are peaceful Christians
...

Death is a terrorist
planting devices
inside minds
ready to detonate
...

A body of whiteness clean linen wrapped,
a feasting ground to nurture life,
your future journey is plotted and mapped.
...

At the table
Pentathol unconscious
man green-draped,
betadined belly peek-a-boos;
...

You circled the cottage
calling ‘Coo-ee! Coo-ee! '
like someone stepping lightly
from a 50's film;
...

I want to drill for eloquence
that oil that seeps
easily out of her lips
every time she speaks
...